


Fear Me Not

by Matthew1972



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angst, Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Cold Weather, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Genderfluid Castiel (Supernatural), Holding Hands, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Senses, Snowed In, Telekinesis, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matthew1972/pseuds/Matthew1972
Summary: Snowed in by himself Sam can no longer ignore the darkness within his blood. Drawn to the cold silence of winter his demonic powers scream louder by the hour, begging to be heard and seen. They are done staying buried behind his self-imposed walls… sleeping deep in his veins. As his senses grow sharper so do his fears. How can he kill the monster within? The demon knife lies in his hand, but there-in lies not his answer. For it is Castiel, Angel of the Lord, who reminds Sam of his humanity, and more.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 16





	Fear Me Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonwillow27458](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwillow27458/gifts).



> Sastiel New Year Gift Exchange 2020, written for @BenevolentSam on tumblr a.k.a. Moonwillow27458

Beyond Sam everything has fallen silent. The world has turned white and bitter cold, covered by a thick layer of snow, or at least the state of Montana has. Winter has come faster than the answer to solving their case. Faster too than Dean could drive into town for supplies and back to the rental lodge they'd claimed as their base. Trapped and kept apart. No distractions from his big brother to get annoyed by. Nothing to stop Sam from finding their answers in the books he's brought, or so he had deflected from the truth on the phone to Dean. Because being by himself? Hell knows, it's the last thing he needs…

Whatever is out there killing hikers isn't what Sam fears more with each hour. No, the demon which haunts him pulses in his veins instead. No longer left forgotten. Once more strong and impulsive, misbehaving on the power of but a basic thought. The cursed gift of telekinesis to blame for the lodge front door closing behind him when his hands were too full to reach for it. For book pages turning without him lifting a single finger. Nudges, that Sam is not aware of, spilling out from his brain until it's by far too late to rein them back inside of the darkest corners of his soul and lock them up. This monster? He can't kill it, not unless he cuts out his heart.

Using the demon knife in his hand seems a fitting end to Sam. What weapon is better than the one which has spilled the blood of many others before him? It'd be so easy too. All that he has to do is stab the blade hard into his chest, deep as he can, and be done with it. This is what hunters do. Killing demons. But is a monster what he is? Sam doesn't feel the darkness as strongly as he did a few years ago. He has no urge to drink the blood of those blackened souls, has he? To go from where there's no return?

To not fall back onto old habits however is easier said than done when his senses are by far too much on edge. Sam rubs his temples in an attempt to lessen his rising headache. Why does the world have to be so bright? The snow too white?

His stare out of the window can't give him any answers. There is no one around for one. His company is reduced to the forest of tall pine trees that spreads out for as far as the eye can see… but it's not so silent out here to him any longer. Far from it, because the rush of darkness in his blood doesn't settle down now that he is aware of how often he's been using it to his benefit, albeit unseen to everyone else. Sam feels how it fuels his fears and inner struggles. How it knows to whisper to him about how a hunter needs every bit of advantage he can get.

Worse, on this frozen December day, the voice reminds him of Lucifer. Of hell. The cage… where he was trapped for an endless amount of time. Taunted and overwhelmed by a similar flooding of bright white energy. A never-ending onslaught of grace, which had drowned his battered and broken human body over and over again. Each one of his deaths had been no more than a momentary reprieve. More so than anything else Sam remembers how the devil runs cold and why a part of him may never feel warm again.

Shivering, Sam wraps his arms around himself. As he does the demon knife clatters from his hand to the floor… the sound as sudden as it is unwanted. Sam jumps at the hollow, metallic echo it casts out into the vast emptiness of being left in the middle of nowhere Montana by himself. His eyes fall onto the for a few seconds forgotten weapon. Should he pick it up? What is even the point? Maybe it is better for everyone he cares for if he lets the monster come for him instead…

But no, his fears be damned, the knife lifts off the floor to float upwards and to drop onto his outstretched palm. His telekinesis drawn out upon the raw human instinct to survive… or perhaps his deep ingrained hunter's drive to fight another day. A move he isn't aware of until he feels the handle of the knife fitting against the flesh of his hand. Sam thumbs the tip of the carved blade and draws a drop of blood, blinking at the contrast of it's deep red on his pale skin. His senses are still far too heightened. He can smell the copper tang of his essence… perhaps even the inhuman scent of barely present sulphur… or maybe it only exists in his mind?

"Why?!"

Sam shouts his bitter anguish into the empty room, to God, who may never listen. Why should He care? Sam is but the boy with demon blood. There is no way in heaven that he can ever hope to cleanse himself. Not a snowball's chance in hell that he can cut the darkness from his arteries _and_ fight on for another day. Yes, he is afraid, but he is angry too. With himself for not locking these dangerous powers away. For believing that they were gone, when he knows in his gut now that they had never left him at all… and maybe he hadn't wanted them to. Redemption is not what Sam is seeking, but maybe God can forgive him for hiding out of fear?

* * *

The faint flutter of a sound breaks him from his thoughts. Sam turns… aiming his knife towards the perceived threat… abruptly cutting himself short on he next second in which he bumps into Castiel, who has materialized on the spot.

Too late! Whatever is in their hands is toppling over. The whiff of chocolate milk, a touch of blessed heat and the aura of spring weather wash over him. Out of reflex Sam thinks of pause. He reaches out as well to steady the stumbling angel by the hip with his free hand. Nothing spills, but the two cups and saucers wobble then steady. Their contents of comfort are barely held within by an invisible power. Sam has felt it moving though, out from under his skin. His urge to run and hide however shatters, because Castiel catches his eyes within the ocean blue depth of their angelic being. Fearless, trusting of him. A blinding truth that for a second takes his breath away.

"Hello, Sam." Brows pinch in a frown of concern.

"Cas!"

Belatedly Sam sets aside his demon knife onto the windowsill. He ignores the reasons why his hand now feels oddly empty, why his heart keeps beating in his throat still, and why he feels lost more so even than before. Where can he start to explain himself? Before he can open his mouth Castiel offers him one of the large, blue cups. The sweet temptation of chocolate wraps around his warming heart. It is such a human gesture, and a pleasurable gift to receive too.

Sam wonders if maybe he's admitted his weakness for the taste of it to Castiel? Judging from their knowing smile, he deems it to be true, remembers again the last winter when they had walked along the shores of an icy lake, talking about everything and nothing, and drawn closer. When after the walk they'd ordered two drinks of dark, hot chocolate at this back-alley coffee shop which served the best Sam had ever had… served in a cup eerily similar to the one put in his hands. A date, but not quite. Friendship; one which holds a fondness to Sam that he's never known before. "How?"

"How did I know you were here? Alone?" Castiel aims for the couch, sets down their hot chocolate milk with a smile and, sitting down, they pat the seat next to them. "Dean said you got snowed in, and he asked for me to retrieve you."

Too shaken still to take the invitation, Sam shakes his head. "I'm not so sure that I can."

"I sensed that. It's why I took a detour."

"You… did?" Stunned by the open admission Sam stammers a little over emotions he's not sure of how to explain, not even to himself. How come Castiel doesn't look at him in disgust? Did they not see or feel him use his telekinetic powers on pure reflex?

"Still do", Castiel says. They rise, walking over to close the distance with Sam for a second time in but minutes. Gentle, elegant fingers wrap around his wrist as if to secure both the cup of hot chocolate and him at once. A thumb next brushes over his pulse point, warming and soothing. "Because I know why you're hiding, hurting… but Sam? You shouldn't be afraid of what you've always been."

"How can I not be?! You saw…" Sam falters under the gaze that so severely lacks disgust. "Why haven't you run? I know I want to, need to, but I can't. Cas, please. I couldn't bear it if I'd ever hurt you."

"You won't."

Sam has no words. Can only watch on as Castiel pries free the cup from his hands to plant it safely on the salon table next to the other one. Can only follow the angel while they sit them both down on the couch. Long fingers entwine with his, not claiming, but offering an anchor that Sam feels more than drawn to.

"Because this pinch of darkness underneath your skin? What I once so wrongly feared, because I was ordered to?" Castiel brushes their thumb over the side of his hand to send away bad memories. Back when they met, they'd been awkward, but none of that remains, it can't after all they've been through. "…It pales in the presence of your soul. Sure, it offers you power, but since your return to Earth I've seen you use it to nudge a fallen weapon back into your hands to keep on going. I've seen you save Dean and myself. That you reach out to steer fate and help innocents, but not to kill monsters with rage. It keeps you alive no more differently so than the blood of a hunter. You use it with the same compassion as the demon knife. Once it tried to rule you, but now? You master it. That's why I am not afraid, Samuel."

At the use of his full name Sam meets their eyes. While they are set in a human vessel there lies something in them which has always run far deeper. Centuries of time and wisdom, but also the pain of loss and war. The being before him isn't a male in the prime of their lives, even when they look it. They are a Seraph born in heaven. With his senses heightened the way they are today Sam can feel that Castiel runs warmer than most angelic kind do. His grace burns just as vividly bright, but it is etched with blue and black streaks. Scars inflicted upon them through centuries of time, but perhaps more so over the recent years. The pain Castiel has suffered since they've been fighting for free will may well match if not surpass his. How many angels have fallen? Sam has lost count. But what he does know is that the one by his side is wrapping their wings around him… and the beyond welcome feeling of them alone is enough to lessen the maddening pulse of anxiety in his veins at last…

* * *

One sip of the hot chocolate confirms his instant suspicions. The taste of sweet perfection brings back fond memories of friendship and understanding for good reason. Sam let's out a soft moan as he drinks more, it is _that_ good. Over the rim of the other cup Castiel glances at him. The twinkle of bemusement in eyes framed by laughter lines, which deepen and ease, sends a different sort of shiver down his spine. Being here no longer feels cold or lonely to Sam… far from it. The heat of a blush creeps onto his cheeks, and it's not born from the warmth of his drink.

"Cas, I…" He reaches out his free hand.

When they meet halfway their pinks hook around each other so they can stay connected. Sam smiles at the answering blush. The two of them have held hands before. Walked in this way when no one else was around to mock them or to say anything of what they've never spoken of. Sam dare not believe that Castiel wants him, not even now, and yet oh-so-pliant lips press a chaste kiss onto his cheek… and another.

Awed by the utter absence of doubt in the one by his side, Sam sets aside his gone empty cup to look at Castiel properly. His question of 'why me' however never makes it out. Can't, when the answer unfolds itself before his eyes. Love makes no sense. It surpasses good and evil. Doesn't choose wisely or lightly. For years Sam has held himself back, too afraid to lose a friend and too broken to consider his unclean self worthy of the devotion of an Angel of the Lord. And yet here they are…

The foot of personal distance falls away under emotions no longer shielded. Want? Yeah, sure, but their bond of friendship runs so much deeper now. Sam isn't sure of which one of them is moving first. Maybe they both are? Either way the truth for Sam is much better than any daydream he won't ever admit to having indulged in. Kissing Castiel for the first time, takes his breath away. Their lips are soft and yet every bit as commanding as those belonging to a soldier of heaven ought to be. As insecure as Sam has felt over the past hours as confirming is their kiss of how human he is, how loved he is.

Blessed warmth seeps deep into his entire being. Sam answers the kiss in kind, wants to taste more of Castiel, licks his way inside of a waiting mouth. Soft becomes lewd, urgent. Wet kisses of pent-up longing overtake their initial carefulness. Nothing else exists. What cold? What winter world? In the cocoon of feathers and arms wrapped around him there is no place for shadows. Each one of his senses draws onto Castiel. Their tongue pressed against his, and their hand tucked against the nape of his neck to pull him closer. The moan of raw pleasure that rips from one of their throats, maybe his. His surge of arousal and how it presses up against the clothed body, which moves to fall into his lap.

"We have the night", Castiel swears to him in a deep rumble.

One last touch of reality, a final shiver of cold, hits Sam. "But Dean? Weren't you send to fetch me?"

"What? Is this not what humans call research?"

The unexpected excuse that Castiel murmurs against his ear has no right to sound so sexy, so intimate a promise, but it does. Sam feels taken by how it stirs up his arousal, firm and undeniably so. Taken too by how the darker pulse in his veins agrees with him to risk everything in the here and now. Tomorrow he can worry again. Better yet, he won't have to face whatever comes next all by himself. He has an ally now. Knows it more surely so with each next kiss that rains down his jawline and throat, teasing him, beckoning him to be in this moment and nowhere else.

"Yeah", Sam gasps in his pleasure. "I say so."

Thoughts mingle with the moving of hands. Layers getting peeled away without much care for them. All they see is the other while they stumble their way over to the bedroom with a messy trail of clothes left behind them. Sam's blood pulses stronger the higher his passion rises, but so does the grace within Castiel. With their limbs entangled the two of them crash onto the bed as one. Each half of them is scarred at heart, damaged beyond reproach according to some. Yet put together they are making perfect sense. Angels, demons, and humans. For Sam, the line between them blurs ever further while they are making love deep into the cold and snowy gone heated night…

… Until dawn shines a new light on his once cursed powers while Sam falls asleep in waiting arms, sated and loved. Perhaps he never had a choice, because this is what God intended for him to be. One-sided faith was once all he had. Now? Now he has so much more in Castiel.

THE END


End file.
